


The Lad

by RedIrisRose



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst and Humor, Art, Attempt at Humor, Bromance to Romance, Coming of Age, Drug Use, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Humor, London, London Underground, Love, Love Triangles, Love at First Sight, Love/Hate, M/M, Music, Poetry, Sarcasm, Sexual Content, Side Story, The Author Regrets Nothing, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:49:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2258124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedIrisRose/pseuds/RedIrisRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was this lad.<br/>That was how most of these stories started, right? Conventionally it was a boy meets girl kind of text book romance, though Louis Tomlinson was never one for cliché love idealisms. He was a realist and the truth was that if by twenty two he still didn’t believe in love that maybe ‘love’ was busy wasting time on those who believed in it. . Love was just a myth that the world had tricked itself into believing. Love was a pretty idea, yes, but when it came down to it that was all love was, an idea. Louis had always believed in this, but there was this lad.<br/>Louis lived with two mates in East London in a small flat- we technically four since there was this lad, no one knew really how he got there, the boy with the mess of curls who somehow appeared on their sofa each night and disappeared by morning.<br/>Niall was always a carefree person who laughed as if laughing were an illicit drug or a cure for cancer.<br/>Zayn words slurring together,half his accent, half intoxicated mixed with a side of Mary Jane mingling to make a cocktail of the classic Bradford bad boy.<br/>At first Louis doesn't know much about Liam but Zayn does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mary Jane and Moulded Pizza

There was this lad.

That was how most of these stories started, right? Conventionally it was a boy meets girl kind of text book romance, though Louis Tomlinson was never one for cliché love idealisms. He was a realist and the truth was that if by twenty two he still didn’t believe in love that maybe ‘love’ was busy wasting time on those who believed in it. To Louis love was just a grown up’s version of the tooth fairy or Santa Claus. Love was just a myth that the world had tricked itself into believing. Love was a pretty idea, yes, but when it came down to it that was all love was, an idea. Louis had always believed in this, but there was this lad.

Louis lived with two mates in East London in a small flat which reeked of moulded pizza, the fridge often went on the blink and caused everything inside to wilt and mould causing a nasty surprise to whichever flat mate awoke first. Then there was the very pungent odder that was simply indescribable coming from Louis’s bedroom, an odd mix of damp clothes, expired cologne and again, moulded pizza. Despite everything it was home for him, Zayn, Niall and the lad.

He referred to him as ‘the lad’  because he didn’t know his name or his face, not even the colour of his eyes. You see this lad was a ghost to Louis. He didn’t know exactly when the boy with the mess of curls had stumbled into their lives, when he had become such a prevalent part of Louis’s subconscious though he did remember the fist time he laid eyes on the sleeping figure.

The boys never questioned it- that was odd in itself, yes, but obviously you don’t know the types of odd goings on which occurred in the cheep flats which were normally only used for short term stays.

Zayn would always brag to the other lads about when a group of ‘laddies of the night’, as he would say, trying to use his most debonair voice going on to explain how they had got the wrong flat. Zayn being Zayn never said a word to the contrary and had proceeded to have one of the best nights of his existence. All the while trying to retain his suave and debonair demeanour, though the undertones of his Bradford twang would always bring his attempts at being upper-class and proper to a stand still.

Whenever he would tell this story Louis would simply roll his eyes and mutter something about how he wished he could have been there. Most of the time he didn’t mean it. Sure he was up for his own share of one night stands and as he said before, love was fiction, but he couldn’t get himself into the idea of loving like Zayn did. Louis had never known Zayn to be with any girl for more than a few days, bouncing from blond to brunette saying how he was just looking for something that felt right for the amount of time he needed. For him lovers had expiration dates.

Niall on the other hand didn’t seem to be too interested at all, the blond lad had been busy loving life in his own little bubble of a perfect world. Though when Zayn would tell this story something in Niall would change, he would grow tense. This wasn’t the only thing odd that had happened in their complex of course.

In the past month there had been two shootings, the closest being only a floor above them. So finding a possibly homeless boy laying on their sofa one night had been the least of their worries. Every night after finding him there had fallen into the same kind of pattern.

Louis would stumble home from a late night, normally coming back from About Time, a dingy looking club just under the railway bridge. This was Zayn’s favourite spot on this side of the river. Louis blamed this on the none stop R&B hits which would cause the raven haired boy to disappear into the crowd for the remainder of the night, his tan skin and tattooed body blending in too well with the other party goers, while Louis would be left sticking out like a sore thumb, sulking into his a pint of beer and listening to Niall give him a drunken rendition of No Diggity which seemed to play at least twice a night.

This repeated almost every night of his post-college life. None of the boys went to university besides Zayn who was studying a double degree in music and art, both Louis and Niall agreed that this was not a real degree.

Though ‘the lad’ might go to university. Louis wouldn’t know.

Getting back to the lad.

When Louis would stumble home, he would fine a lanky mess of curls burrowed into the faded leather of their sofa. Louis had asked along with both Zayn and Niall how this boy had managed to stumble into their apartment on random nights and be gone by the early hours of the morning. That was the mystery of the lad.

So in a sense he had four flatmates. The lad was something that literally kept him up at night, many nights in a drunken haze he had half the nerve to storm out to the bedroom and force him awake, demand an answer from the boy with curls. Shake him awake and watch his eyes fly open, see the colour of them. He imagined they were brown to match the dark shade of his chocolate curls, but that was just a guess. He then wasn’t sure what he would do next, probably snog the hell out of him thought he would never admit that.

When he came face to face with a sleeping boy he had always found himself admiring him, especially when nine times out of ten he would be lying there as stripped as the day he was born, on their sofa, deep in sleep leaving Louis to admire every inch of his body. The way his back muscles tensed and loosened in his sleep or the splashes of ink which etched into his skin as tattoos, over his arms, his ribs and even something small on his hips and upper thigh. Not that Louis had been looking… of course he had been looking.

If Louis could draw, he could create a map of each tattoo, scar and freckle on the lad’s body and yet still all the details that he needed were withheld, like a name.

“Why don’t you wake him up as ask him for a quick shag?”

Zayn muttered that night as he passed the joint from his lips to Louis who took a long drag then held it. Zayn reached up his fingers scraping over the top of the doorframe and scowled as dust was the only resin left on his hand. No key.

“Yes Zayn because that will go well. ‘Oh Hey! I noticed you’ve been sleeping on our sofa recently and I was wondering if you would like to shag, because you know you’re fit and I’m not terrible, so why not?’ How does that sound?”

Louis asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as Zayn dropped to his knees, lifting the doormat and ran his hands under it, again nothing.

Niall burst out laughing his voice a whimsical chiming in the boys’ ears. Niall was always a carefree person who laughed as if laughing were an illicit drug or a cure for cancer. He laughed as if everything in the world was right. Louis would simply say a something remotely funny and the fake bottle blond Irish lad would be gone into a fit of laughter,  especially when drunk.

“Something like that” Zayn shot back and tried the knob on the door, then smoothed back his raven hair in frustration.

“Where the fuck do we keep the sodding door key?” Zayn cursed, words slurring together slightly, half his accent, half intoxicated mixed with a side of Mary Jane all mingling to make a cocktail of the classic Bradford bad boy.

“Did you try the doorframe?” Niall slurred swaying slightly.

“Only five seconds ago Horan would you like me to try again?” He snapped.

“Zayn, he’s drunk. Leave him be.” Louis noted and tried everywhere they would think to put a key.

“Niall didn’t you have it last?” Niall’s head snapped up to attention and he nodded.

“Put it in a safe place, I did” He slurred his Irish accent growing thick.

“Which would be where?” He asked.

“Left it with the sleeping lad. Curly.”

Both Zayn and Louis spun on their heels to face the Irish lad both shooting him a deeply disapproving glare.

“You what?” Louis shot as Zayn scoffed,

“You mean you left the key to the flat with the random stranger sleeping in our flat?”

Niall looked from one to the next and held his hands up,

“Hey Curly’s not a stranger, he’s lived with us for like three months.”

This is simply followed by a series of profanities from both boys ending with a simple, ‘for fuck’s sake Niall’ said in unison. Louis started nervously shaking his leg, a habit he had for as long as he could remember, while Zayn started to pace.

“I say we just knock on the door until we wake him.”

Louis’s heart skipped a beat because meeting the boy meant so many things. He meant that he would get his answers, eye colour, the details of his face more than just a face masked by a mess of curls and the spare duvet which Louis had left on the sofa for the curly-haired boy. When the other boys had asked he simply brushed it off and informed them that the boy must of brought it himself considering Louis would never admit his obvious soft spot for the boy.

There was the other half of his mind caused his stomach to drop because this lad could be nothing like the one he had built up in his mind. There were so many ways this could go. He wasn’t even sure if the boy he had envisioned in his head, other than the fact that he was fit and was covered in tattoos, maybe had brown eyes or blue or grey or green. He didn’t know why something so simple as an eye colour could bother him. Eyes were the windows to the soul and he had never seen the lads soul and this struck a cord with him.

Still he chocked out at “No” causing both boys to look him over.

“What’s your other plan? Sleep out here all night until he decides to clear off and hope he leaves the keys for us?”

Though Zayn’s words dripped in sarcasm Louis didn’t acknowledge them, mostly because he was not waking up the lad, some things were just better left a secret. Until he saw a face and got answers this boy was a fantasy and some things were better left just that, fantasies.

“Yes Zayn, that sounds like your best idea yet.”

He slides down the wall beside the poorly painted, faded red door tucking his knees into his chest. He then let his glassy blue eyes meet that of the other two boys. Even Niall in his inebriated state shook his head at Louis.

Zayn and Niall exchanged glances and they mirrored each other’s devilish smiles. Zayn beat his fists against the door like a drum set, beating a loud and receptivity thud. Niall’s laugh at this echoed up through the hallway, bouncing off the walls noisily.  He then let himself loose on a flimsy and drunken rendition of a Flogging Molly song going to help the drumming on the door. His voice smooth yet slurred in the rendition of the Irish song.

Louis’s heart skipped a beat as there was stirring from the other side of the door, This was not how he wanted to meet the boy of his dreams, reeking of alcohol and piss with the undertones of a sliff, the bottom of his jeans sticky with some unknown substance that he had sunken into when sitting outside the hallway. His hair was a mess, eyes bloodshot and suddenly his heart was beating out of his chest as the door swung open and he was face to face with the lad.

So there was this lad standing in front of him, that’s how all these stories started right?

It’s always a guy isn’t it?


	2. Evergreen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis meets the infamous 'lad' and maybe he also meets love.

Green, his eyes were green. Before Louis had time to think he made the realisation that the boy before him had green eyes. They were a brilliant like an evergreen forest or the English countryside. They were green like the earth that was crumbling around his feet.

Louis didn’t believe in love. Love was a fallacy, but if he did, he would say that in that very instant he fell in love with the boy before him, the one whose eyes were green and made the world shine a little brighter.

As soon as these thoughts entered his mind however he shoved them to one side, accounting it for his drunken state or his libido.

“Hello?”  Shit.

His voice was this deep throated, husky tone which sent shivers up Louis’s back, causing him to fall into an uncomfortable silence. Zayn quirked up his brow and opened his mouth about to say something, but was cut off by none other than the drunken Irish lad beside him who cast Harry a smile.

“Hey curly! Told ‘em that you could keep the flat under control for a few hours.”

Niall chuckled pushing past him and flopped down onto the sofa, he burrowed his face in the pillow Louis had set out for the curly haired body and snuggled down into the sofa,

“tank’s for the sofa mate, you can take the bed” He slurred before almost instantly passing out. His breath became heavy, his chest visibly heaving up and down.

The boy with the curls looked equally as confused as Louis and Zayn, his brows pulled together in a fine line.

“No offence but who are you guys?” The curly lad asked, causing Zayn to let out a slight chuckle.

“We could ask you the same question curly, what are you doing here? You know this is our flat, right?”

There was more confusion in his face, he looked at the two as if they were suddenly speaking in Mandarin.

“Your flat? Maybe you’re a little drunk mate because this is my friends flat, and my names not curly.”

Zayn looked at Louis giving him the slightest of an eye roll. Louis could read Zayn’s face like a book, not many people could, but Louis had known him for far too long not to know his looks. Basic putting it politely Zayn was trying to tell Louis he thought that the curly lad had a screw loose.

“If we are drunk or not is out of the question and sorry mate, but unless your ‘friend’ happens to ether the two of us or the drunken lad passed out on the sofa, your mate doesn’t live here.” Zayn noted his voice sounding slightly irritated, he was tired and a tired Zayn led to a horrible time for all who surrounded him.

Again his response is a furrowed brow. The boy held up a hand and disappeared into the flat, causing Zayn to jump into action as if worried he would suddenly grab all their things and boot them out of their own apartment, or rob the place and make a run for it.

The lad didn’t seem to be the type of person who would do this though. Louis didn’t know why, he just didn’t strike him as the type. Plus he had addressed them standing there in nothing but his Top Man boxers and if he were to make a run for it then he would stand out in a crowd like a virgin in a sex convention.

Instead he sorts through his things beside the sofa, careful not to jostle Niall from his rest, pulling out his phone and leaned against the doorframe scrolling through it.

“Look, this is the address my mate told me to go to… here East London, flat 816.”

This time it was Louis who quirked a smile and caught those brilliant green eyes,

“Babe,”

He chuckled surprised that the nickname rolled off his tongue easily, but then again, he didn’t have a first name yet so really any name would do. That and the fact that, (1) he was a little drunk and (2) babe was a lovely name for him. He grabbed the boy’s larger arm, pulling him out into the hallway and shut the door to illustrate his point, showing the boy the fading numbers painted on the front of their door reading, ‘819’.

“Shit” Was all the curly haired boy muttered, looking at the door suddenly shooting, Louis a dimpled smile in embarrassment and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well… I screwed up” He chuckled which caused Louis to join in on the laugh because it was utterly whimsical, in a different way to Niall’s. This boy just made Louis smile. He was a foot taller than himself, his body covered in tattoos causing Louis to always assume he would have been the stereotypical ‘bad arse’ and coupled with his deep voice everything fell into place.

Though as soon as he stood against the doorframe, his feet slightly turned inwards and his back slumped slightly to meet their height, or his awkward manor of slowly speaking, it became obvious he was more like a baby giraffe than anything.

“Let’s start again.”

Louis decided to try to eradicate the awkwardness which was already brewing between the two of them.

“Okay, start over.” He agreed smirking slightly.

“Well then, hello awkward lad who sleeps in our flat, I’m Louis”

Louis extended a hand, which the boy took almost instantly, his hand far larger than Louis’s and almost totally covered it with his own.

“Hello, lad who awkwardly watches me sleep, I’m Harry.”

Harry, simple. It rolls off the tongue, it fit him. The nickname possibilities were also endless, which was something Louis always looked for: Harry, Harold, Haz, Hazza. He could instantly find them rolling off his tongue lazily when rolling out of bed on a Wednesday morning, finding a body beside him, he wouldn’t have to sleep on the sofa-.

Louis was getting way ahead of himself and he had no idea why. This was not him. He wasn’t the person who would wake up with someone in their bed, they would have snuck out before he awoke and Louis would have been fine with this because that was the type of person he was, the type who would carelessly sleep with strangers because they both knew the agreement at hand. Just sex, no weekday morning wake up calls or nicknames.

A simple name had triggered all of this, Harry.

Harry, meaning ruler in war. Don’t ask Louis how he knew that. Niall had forced Zayn to borrow out a baby book from his university library trying to convince them that his name did in fact mean champion after he won a match of FIFA with Louis. They had both believed him once he showed them it on his phone, but that wasn’t good enough for Niall so they spent the whole day flipping through several books trying to find his name.

The name Harry had stuck out to Louis because his own name was said to mean famous in war. They were already matching… and Louis was already getting sappy and sentimental for no apparent reason.

He managed to snap out of this smiling widely at Harry for longer than he should, but then again Harry was staring right back so what was the harm? Almost a minute later Zayn coughed letting them know he was still in the room.

“If you guys are going to flirt could you at least unlock the door so I could crash on the sofa with Niall”

Louis scoffed, “There are three perfectly decent beds, not everyone has to fight for the sofa.” Zayn’s answer was a simple shrug.

“I think it was beside the sofa” Harry mumbled softly and both boys looked to him.

“You mean beside the sofa as in with Niall, who happens to be shitfaced and arse over tits on the sofa?”

Harry bit his lip and mumbled, “I’m guessing is that was the Irish lad who was singing in the hallway, they yeah.”

“Mother fucker” Was Zayn’s frustrated sigh and he beats his fists against the wall until the knuckles glowed a bright red under the dull florescent lighting, sure enough they would soon bruise.

From the other side of the door there wasn’t the slightest noise of stirring. Niall was out cold and for the second time that night they were locked out with no place to go, only this time Louis had Harry.

“What now?” Louis muttered and Zayn’s head snapped over to Louis’s and he could tell he was in no mood for his light-hearted jokes.

“How about you go sleep in the bloody hallway seems it seemed to utterly comfortable ten minutes ago.”

Silence descended between the three men, the only sound to be heard was Niall’s baited breath on the other side of the door. Harry was the first of the boys to speak up, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other like a three legged giraffe. This made Louis smile more than he should have, everything that this boy did make him smile too much.

“We could always actually try and crash in my friends flat, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“Great idea, Curly. You and I can go to your mates room and Louis can sleep in the hallway.”

“Piss off Zayn, you know damn well why I wanted to sleep in the hallway.” Louis sounded angrier than he meant, his words coming out sullen and snippy.

“Then do reiterate Tomlinson.” Equal sullen sarcasm, he now saw what Zayn was trying to do.

“Can we talk about this when we actually have a proper roof over our heads and are at least moderately sober?”

Again there was a looming silence and Harry began to move,

“Let’s just go to Liam’s room and get some rest.”

He was the voice of reason for the three of them, leading them down the empty hallway, taking a sharp left turn then paused looking for the door number, finally finding 816. He then wrapped his knuckles on the door, for a while all their hearts and hopes of a good night's sleep started to fade when there was no sound behind the doorway.

“What now?” Was the hushed whisper which escaped Louis’s throat.

“Know any Irish rock songs?” Zayn smirked.

He moved to the door readying his hands for another drum solo when it swung open, revealing a broad-shouldered boy standing in nothing but boxers, he used one hand to scrub his eyes to scrub his chin, which bore something slightly more than a five o’clock shadow. The other hand behind his back. He looked dazed.

“Harry?”

He whispered, then looked to the other boys letting something drop behind his back with a thud.

“Zayn?”

Harry seemed surprised that Liam actually knew the name of the dark skinned lad.

“And Louis, nice to meet you or it would be under better circumstances, but right now we are here to steal your bed and a cup of coffee would be lovely t-“

He paused, craning his neck up and caught a glance at the wooden object that lay behind Liam on the floor, it was cylindrical and slimmer on one end than the other. Louis’s eyes widened.

“And that is a baseball bat- I’m going back to sleep in the hallway.”

He had already spun on his heels and was leaving when Zayn grabbed the collar of his jacket and dragged him back.

“What would you do if someone knocked on your door at half three in East London?” He asked then kicked the bat to one side.

“Li- we were wondering… Well it’s a pretty long story, I got the rooms mixed up and thought their room was yours and now we’re all locked out” Liam gave the slightest nod in understanding and stood to one side inviting them to come in silently. He switched the lights on in the flat illuminating the space, causing them all to cringe as their eyes screamed in protest, already blood shot red from lack of sleep and alcohol.

They stood crowded in the small living space all squishing together on a small fading leather sofa. Liam’s elbows were tucked in tightly to his side to avoid jabbing Zayn in the face while Zayn and Harry were glued to each other’s sides. Louis was almost in Harry’s lap as they sat quietly.

“So Liam how do you know Zayn?” Louis whispered, trying to break the silence which was palpable in the air.

“We both go to the same university, he’s in my history and Legal studies”

Louis furrowed his brow, “I thought you were studying music and art”

Again Zayn gave a small nod.

“I am but you don’t just do art and music, history- especially the renaissances has a lot to do with art and Legal helps with the publishing side of music.”

Louis just pulled a face at the idea of actually doing any form of work in his university course and thanked god or the metaphor of god that he had chosen the easy way out. He also thanked him for being sat there, inches away from Harry, awake and breathing with a total of one layer of clothing (Louis’s) between them. He fought the urge to lean in closer to the boy and did so anyway. Harry gave him this odd look, but didn’t move away from him, maybe Louis was just drunk, but pushing his luck way his favourite thing to do out of boredom and so he pushes further still leaning in closer. One layer of clothing and two inches of space separating them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed and as always leave any comments or questions, I would love to get your opinion.


	3. The Batman Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some awkwardness with a twist of Ziam.

Louis hadn’t intended to make the move closer look so utterly deliberate, but in doing so his mind seemed to lose its senses. He was lost in the living epitome of beauty, which shaped a human form in Harry. He smelled of vanilla with a kind of musky undertone, something Louis couldn’t quite pin. If was comforting in a way more like the musk of an old book compared to that of Louis’s room’s two week old pizza.

It was plain as day to everyone that something was going on. Louis was too close to Harry, leaning closer still his eyes glued to his lips, which reflected the essence of being kiss swollen without even being touched. They could give Mick Jagger a run for his money. In a small moment of clarity Louis had the realisation that now they were all looking at him.

Zayn gave him the classic Zayn ‘your about to do something you’ll regret’ look. Harry turned to face him, those ever-green eyes boring into Louis’s for a split second time stopped because this was the sleeping lad, the one he had gotten too utterly attached to, the reason for many wet dreams he wished not to think about with him gazing into his eyes for the prospect of making matters even worse.

“Are you trying to kiss me?” He whispered and Louis’s words caught in his throat.

He didn’t know that was what he was doing until Harry said it. He was right. His lips were slightly puckered and wet from licking them in preparation. He was about to deny it until he was blue in the face when Zayn finally became handy.

“He’s drunk mate, don’t flatter yourself, once he snogged a pole. When he’s drunk his standards go out the window.”

That may or may not have been a true story, but Louis wasn’t about to argue with Zayn when he was actually saving his arse. He was probably just drunk or that was the excuse he was going to use.

“What Hazza don’t kiss on a first date?” His mouth moved with his mind and he was drunk, utterly so because he wouldn’t have said that sober.

“For one… not a date and for two, well no. It’s a rule not to kiss on a first date.”

Louis couldn’t count on one hand the number of first dates he had kissed on and then once you were kissing you always went further. Temptation was a cruel mistress and he could taste temptation on Harry’s lips, it was pungent in the air.

“What shitty dates do you go on? It’s no sex until the third date and that’s only if you want commitment, and I don’t need commitment babe.”

He leaned in closer not knowing how far gone he really was he just knew Harry was a siren with his voice deep and his eyes wide.

“Would you look at that? Tomlinson appears to have shoved two feet in his mouth at once, a new record” Zayn whispered to Liam leaning over slightly causing the larger boy to chuckle softly. Zayn’s arm rested on Liam’s forearm, giving it a little squeeze the physical contact unneeded but welcome to both parties.

Harry’s brows quirked up and he rolled his eyes ever so slightly, looking over at the doorframe biting his lip then back to the other three boys.

“And with this conversation going nowhere productive I’m going to say goodnight. Liam, can I use the spare room?”

Liam responded with a little nod and directed him to the room disappearing for a second.

Louis was left on the sofa with Zayn. He was sitting staring off into the distance, his eyes becoming heavy, his head started to droop slightly. His eyes glided shut and he hears Zayn mutter,

“You know him for a grand total of fifteen minutes and he already thinks you’re a pervert” Louis eyes widened and he glanced over at Zayn,

“He doesn’t think I’m a pervert… right?”

“You essentially asked him to have sex with you, so I would think… well yeah”

Louis returned with silence because he knew the boy spoke the truth. Maybe he was a little brash. He let out a loud sigh and lays down, placing his head in the Bradford lad’s lap letting his eyes glide shut again.

“There goes any chance I had with him out the window.”

“No, all your chances with him went out the window when you started watching him sleep, there are better ways to meet a person.”

Louis could tell by the tone of Zayn’s voice that he was smiling, despite Louis’s discomfort he was smiling, widely too. Louis didn’t understand most of Zayn’s reasons for smiling. His smiles always dripped with the classic air of mystery, the type that said, ‘you’ll never know me,’ and maybe Louis didn’t want to. There was something almost beautiful about knowing the depths of a person's personality, their history and still not being able to grasp who they really were- though most of the time it was just frustrating. Louis had grown up with Zayn, watched him change from an awkwardly silent boy to a somewhat mysterious and sullen man.

“I’ll find a way to win him back you know” was his muted whisper as his head began to drop his breathing beginning to slow.

Zayn was about to comment that you couldn’t ‘win someone back’ if you never had them in the first place, but Louis was already asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly and so with a shake of his head he stood up giving the boy the entirety of the sofa. A glance over his tattooed shoulder revealed Liam standing there with a pile of blankets in his arms and a pillow that looked firm yet comfortable.

“I guess I can’t expect the two of you to fit on the sofa can I?” 

Zayn shrugged lazily and scrubbed his face. Honestly, he just wanted to be cuddled up in his flat with a body beside him, which radiated a sense of heat and comfort, it didn’t necessarily matter who it was that lay beside him. Heat was heat; skin was skin.

“I could just sleep on the floor, honestly” Was his reply taking the pillow from the boy’s arms but he stepped back in protest.

“There’s enough room on my bed if you want, you don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

Zayn’s brows quirked up and he couldn’t help himself from taking this chance to tease Liam.

“So you aren’t the only one who believes in sex on the first date, huh?”

Liam turned a brighter shade a red and shook his head looking down at his feet,

“Not at all what I mean, I have a girlfriend and you know it.”

So maybe, the two had spoken slightly in the two classes they had together or shared several lunches joking about. He knew Liam liked comics and idolised batman. A person’s favourite comic book character told a lot about their personality in Zayn’s mind.

Batman didn’t have superpowers, he broke the law frequently and yet still he was portrayed as the hero of the story. Mix that with a classic tragic past of parents getting shot in a dingy alleyway and him creating his hero persona from the things that scared him most as a child (bats), Zayn got a great deal of what Liam was like. He was a consequentialist for one. It didn’t matter how many people Batman dangled over buildings as long as he saved lives, the consequences out weight the actions. The bad childhood is pretty common for superheroes, but the way Liam spoke about his tragic childhood made Zayn think that his own wasn’t all too great. Then you had the persona, Liam values people who strive to conquer their fears. You can tell a lot about a person by their favourite superheroes. If you were wondering Zayn’s is Deadpool though he will never tell you how to interpret that.

Long story short, Zayn knew Liam fairly well. Another long story short Liam had a girlfriend who almost seemed attached to his hip every waking hour outside of school, Zayn on the other hand preferred the company of many women.

“Just because you have a girlfriend doesn’t mean you can’t fool around” There was this knowing smirk on Zayn’s face, he knew this wasn’t an option for Liam but it was a teasing possibility.

“Look, normally I am in the mood for your Zayn-like banter, but today I’m just tired” he whispered scrubbing his face roughly.

“The other side of the bed is open, take it or don’t”

Zayn didn’t hesitate in following Liam, Louis was not one for sharing and he also snored from time to time and Zayn being extremely irritable when he was tried didn’t need anything to provoke his mood.

He tugged off his shirt, plonked down on the bed, his arms throbbing as he removed his shoes and fell back on the bed taking several seconds to collect his thoughts, the inked flesh around his chest moved up and down as he breathed slowly. He took his time to peel his skin from the jeans, which clung to his body tightly.

By this point Liam was already back in bed, huddled under the puffy mess of duck down quilts. Two pillows were placed in the centre of the bed causing his brows to quirk up and he can’t help but question out loud as he settled under the covers on the other side of the bed.

“Did you make a pillow fort? What are we twelve now? I promise I will keep my cooties away from your cooties.”

Zayn didn’t need for Liam to turn over to tell that he was smiling. It was something in the way his back muscles flexed and loosened as if he had fought it. He rolled over to face Zayn. His face was painted with the image of sleep deprivation his eyes a puffy red, his reactions slow and sluggish.

“Fine, just don’t be a bed hog with ‘your cooties’ Malik” This earned the slightest of smirks from Zayn too.

“Deal” he whispered.

Zayn rolled over facing the boy with the cropped hair, taking a deep breath, his eyes searching those of the puppy dog eyes that had already glided shut. From the other room Zayn could hear the shuffling of feet slowly become silent and music drifted through the room. Zayn closed his eyes the soft music drifted in from Harry’s room listening to the quiet words that through the thin walls.

“J'ai plus de nouvelles, tu vois J’espère que tout baigne là-bas et que les anges rient avec toi”

Zayn’s brows drew together sleepily and he nudged Liam ever so slightly causing him to let out a small groan and push Zayn away.

“Tell Curly to shut the music off,” he moaned burrowing into the pillow,

“Shut your eyes, you won’t hear it” His voice whispered weakly causing Zayn to scoff shaking his shoulder again.

“That isn’t how hearing works” he shot.

Liam shot upright and grabbed one of the pillows he had previously strewn over the floor sitting upright and shoved it over Zayn’s head chuckling,

“Better?” He smirked waking up slightly.

Zayn kicked out in frustration and forced himself in a sitting position, throwing the pillow over the other side of the room now face to face with his chosen partner that night- Liam. Zayn wasn’t sure about his yearning of someone beside him, it was imbedded. He would push people away, but in the end he needed someone.

He smiled widely and leaned over shoving Liam from the bed causing him to tumble over on his arse and let out a curse.

“Hey” he chuckled standing up.

“I’m going to get you back for that.” He stood up and shoved Zayn back in a playful manner causing him to tumble back into the mess of sheets.

“I’m going to kill curly if he doesn’t shut it up.” He moaned, pushing Liam gently who smirked again not moving this time from the shove.

“Who could sleep with this French shit?” He moaned softly, laying back in the sheets.

“Harry apparently.”

Liam lays back to smiling softly and shook his head, his arm crossing the space of ‘my side’ and ‘your side’ he had set out resting it on Zayn’s back.

“I think it’s pretty” he whispered quietly and shut his eyes Zayn following suit again.

The room lapsed into silence and Zayn tried to ignore the fact that the sun began to rise from the curtains.

Tomorrow was a new day, which could be saved for yesterday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christophe Maé - Charly is the song mentioned in this chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy, don't forget to leave comments and questions.


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